


Five Scales Per Hour

by Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art Shop, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Gen, I wanted to make my boy happy, Modern Fantasy, Muffins, This is the purest fic I've written to date, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, paintings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus/pseuds/Shadowy_Dumbo_Octopus
Summary: Welcome to Viteri's Art Supplies, a small independent art shop nestled comfortably in the middle of Silverfield Lane, right between the "Emerald Palace" bookshop and Mr Lou's animal emporium.This is a story about new places, alien and familiar at once, spending one's days off cozied up in the café next to the train station, talking portraits, five scales per hour, blueberry muffins so delicious that they will make you cry, and about living a life you never thought you would experience.This is a story about Simpkin.





	Five Scales Per Hour

Simpkin still wasn't sure how exactly he survived. One moment he was charging at that _thing,_ club in hand, and suddenly he was flying back to the Other Place.

Perhaps there was a clause in his summonings about rushing headfirst into danger, but he sincerely doubted that; Mr Pinn surely would have informed him about it.

Speaking of whom, the magician was probably furious about what has happened to his precious shop; Simpkin suspected that his failure to protect the priceless goods will most likely land him on the receiving end of the Shrivelling Fire. Needless to say, he wasn't particularly eager on returning to Earth.

That's why, when he felt summons tugging at his essence, he did everything in his might to resist them, but to no use. Resigning himself to the form of a green, long-tailed imp, Simpkin materialised inside the pentacle and awaited punishment.

Only he wasn't in Mr Pinn's summoning room.

The room he appeared in was much smaller and warmer, its walls lined with paintings and handmade masks. The air carried a strong smell of paint.

"Hello there." A feminine voice startled him. Oh right. His new master.

He quickly moved his eyes back to the person standing in the pentacle opposite; a dark-skinned woman with long pastel pinky-purple hair (he wasn't sure which shade it was – it seemed to change depending on how the light hit it) and a dress that looked like one big splotch of paint.

"Welcome to Viteri's Art Supplies. I apologise for ripping you out of your plane of existence so abruptly; standard procedure, I'm afraid." 

He resisted the urge to scoff – magicians have been doing that since their ancestors figured out how to draw a pentacle. 

Still, it would at least be polite to reply.

"Greetings." He said. "Is there, um, is there something you need?"

The woman nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. "There is, as a matter of fact." She said. "You see, Simpkin, I'm in a dire need of an assistant, and would like to ask if you're interested."

Just then, Simpkin noticed that her entire left arm was made of wood, resembling that of a mannequin except that every inch of it was covered in intricate drawings, paintings, and splashes of paint. Was it a prosthetic? Was that why she needed his assistance?

Wait a moment, did she say ‘assistant?'

He greatly enjoyed assisting Mr Pinn in running his shop, so why not try his luck here? Surely running an art shop wouldn't be much different than Mr Pinn's glamorous kingdom.

The memory of that _thing_ quickly brought him back to reality.

"I'm going to need more information." He said, deciding to wait and see.

"Of course, follow me." His summoner nodded, stepping out of the pentacle and heading towards the door.

Wait… Simpkin blinked a couple of times. She left the pentacle! Willingly! Exposing herself to being maimed/killed/eaten/etc! 

Then again, he was too curious to attack just yet and decided to follow. After all, he could always eat her later.

"Your duties," the woman said as they left the room, "would include checking stocks, moving heavy objects, setting out new goods, sweeping the floor, serving the customers during my absence, and in general keeping the store in working order. I used to be able to do it myself, but…" she gestured at her wooden hand, wincing slightly, "my strength and magic aren't what they used to be, plus phantom pains can be a bit of a, well, pain. Here, this would be your charge."

She opened another door, letting Simpkin into a large and bright art shop. There were colours everywhere: paints, pencils, oils, paper and card, ribbons, spray paints, brushes of all shapes and sizes, paper knives, and even some things Simpkin couldn't name despite having been on Earth for over two centuries. There was a whole wall dedicated to rolls of paper and canvas, stacked neatly according to format and thickness. On the other walls hung even more paintings done, judging by the repeated signature, by one person.

His summoner smiled with a twinge of pride. "Do you like my paintings?" She asked, startling him again.

He nodded. The paintings were actually excellent; the landscapes seemed to be moving ever so slightly, and the glint in the eyes of some of the portraits seemed almost lifelike.

"They're incredible." And he meant it. Hopefully she was right-handed, though - it would be a shame if her artistic skill suffered because of her prosthetic. Then again, the wooden arm moved smoothly enough.

"I will show you more later, should you agree to take up the post." His summoner approached the counter and, reaching under it, lifted up a cardboard box labelled "ASSISTANT." She set it down with a sigh.

"Like I said, not what I used to be before." She chuckled, rubbing her shoulder with a wince. "Here, come and take a look."

Simpkin approached the counter, extending his legs a little so that he could take a peek at what was inside the box.

It contained, as he helped to set out the items, several white coats resembling those artists usually wore, a clipboard with some pages already attached, a ring of keys, and a strange clay amulet depicting a summoning pentacle surrounded by some runes he wasn't familiar with. It glowed on all planes save for the first... 

…as did his summoner, Simpkin couldn't help but notice with no small surprise.

"The coat comes in several sizes," she was saying casually, "I have more in the storeroom." She gestured with her wooden arm at a door next to the one they went through. "You would have to wear it at all times because, as you can probably guess, things can get messy around here."

He nodded, barely listening. "Okay." Clipboard. Keys. They meant sweet, delicious responsibility. Did she mention arranging stocks? He could already see about five better ways to set out the sketchbooks, not even mentioning the disaster that was the watercolours section. 

Okay, time to focus; she was moving on to the clipboard.

"The clipboard contains the list of everything we have in here, the dates of deliveries, opening and closing times, important dates and holidays, as well as your calendar of days off and several blank pages for you to doodle on." She handed him the board with a wink. "I would say that they're for other notes, but I'm willing to bet a mocha that you'd end up doodling all over them anyway."

Simpkin took the clipboard and flipped through it, mildly offended that she would accuse him of _wasting time_ at work. Then again, it was an art shop; maybe he was expected to draw in his spare time.

When he got to the "days off" section, something dawned on him. "I'd get days off?" He asked. Mr. Pinn never gave him days off. No magician ever did, in fact. Apparently spirits didn't get them.

His summoner nodded, looking strangely confused. "Of course you do." She said. "Niday and Noday, like everyone."

Wait, what?

The week set out on the page consisted of ten days instead of seven: Solday, Arday, Triday, Lunday, Griday, Ronday, Norday, Reday, Niday, and Noday.

He flipped to the calendar: Year 16275. There were twelve months, but their names were different than the ones on Earth. 

"Simpkin?" His summoner's voice came as if from far, far away, brimming with concern. "What's wrong? Do you need to sit down?" 

His head was spinning.

"W… Where am I?"

This wasn't Earth. Earth didn't have ten days in a week and months with weird names and magical humans and… and…

His summoner helped him sit down on the chair that stood behind the counter. 

"Simpkin." She said, gently patting his face. "Simpkin, look at me. Are you unwell? Do you want me to call for a medic?"

A medic? He didn't need a medic! He desperately needed to find out where the hell he was. And… and anyway spirits didn't need doctors! Were there even doctors for spirits?

"Where am I?" He repeated the question. "This… This isn't where I'm usually summoned."

"Meregoth, the capital of Aedir." His summoner informed him and then, seeing his blank expression, added "the continent of Alios?" Nope, still didn't ring a bell. "…Eskaria?"

Simpkin simply shook his head, feeling like he was being summoned for the first time all over again. This was so wrong. So, so wrong. "Why am I here?" His voice carried a twinge of panic, pleading for his summoner to explain everything, make his limbs stop trembling, send him back home…

She sighed, leaning against the counter. "This must be your first time here." She said as if it wasn't obvious. "Gods, I can't imagine how lost you must be. I'm so sorry, Simpkin. I should have expected this, I should have asked you if you've ever been here. I'm so, so sorry." 

The strange thing was that she really seemed upset by his situation, which only cemented Simpkin's belief that she wasn't like the magicians he was used to.

"Does our world at least look like the one you know?"

He went to shake his head, but paused, taking a look around and through the window. The art supplies looked pretty much the same, the people outside wore things people on Earth wore, and… wait, did that man have pointed ears? Why was that woman's skin green? Oh dear…

It was a little too much for him to take at one time, so his mind quickly switched to one of the very few things he did know how to deal with at the moment.

"Could you tell me more about being an assistant?"

His summoner regarded him hesitantly. "Are you sure?" She asked. "I could send you back home if you want, just say the word."

Could she really do that? On one hand, Simpkin wouldn't mind being back in the Other Place, but on the other, how long would it take for another magician (maybe even Mr Pinn) to summon him? This whole Eskaria place looked weird as hell, but it didn't seem as bad as Earth.

"No, no. It's… I think I'm okay now. Please tell me about the job."

After sending him one more worried glance, his summoner went through each page of the clipboard and explained what he was supposed to write on it. Come to think of it, it didn't differ that much from working at Pinn's, Simpkin thought after most of the initial shock has passed.

Then, the ring of keys. There was a key to the shop, the storeroom, and Simpkin's room.

"If you agree to work for me, you could have a room for yourself if you wished. It would save you the hassle of looking for an apartment and getting to work, and me the hassle of summoning you all the time. You don't have to live there, of course; it's merely an offer. I could show it to you later."

A room all for himself, Simpkin mused. Nice, although it was difficult for him to wrap his head around the idea of having a space to live. Did spirits in Eskaria have houses too? 

"Now this," a flash of gold caught his eye; the clay disc. "Do you know what this is?"

He shook his head. 

"Okay," His summoner (he wondered if she would tell him her name, or even last name, eventually) set it on her palm, "this is a grounding amulet. The short explanation is that it allows those from other planes of existence to freely wander Eskaria without any pain or discomfort. They may leave anytime they wish; all they have to do is to remove the amulet from their person. The only drawback is that they cannot change shape when wearing it."

Simpkin's jaw dropped. 

No pain?

No discomfort?

Freedom?

Up until now, he wasn't aware that these three things were even an option!

"You… you give your slaves these?!" He couldn't help but exclaim. The magicians back on Earth would never even think of creating this sort of thing.

His summoner stared at him in silence for a moment, face blank. Then, she took a long, slow breath and asked "Slaves?"

"Um, yes."

"Simpkin, are you a slave?"

"All spirits are, they have been for thousands of years." He frowned. "Aren't they on Eskaria?"

"Slavery has been illegal for 6471 years, Simpkin." Her hands, folded on the counter, twitched slightly, threads of bright violet lightning beginning to dance between her fingers. "Are you telling me that your kind," her voice was slowly rising as shock gave way to anger. The light bulb flickered and went out as tendrils of shadow began to crawl out of every corner of the room. Her eyes took on a white illumination, wind picking up suddenly and sending sheets of paper fluttering all around the shop, "has been ensLAVED AND MISTREATED FOR MILLENNIA AND **NOBODY HAS DONE A SINGLE BLASTED THING ABOUT THAT?!"**

Then, just as soon as it began, it was over. His summoner closed her eyes and sighed wearily as the magical energy dispersed and the lightbulb came back on.

"I'm sorry." She said, reaching up to touch her temple as if in pain. "I don't usually lose control so easily. I'm so sorry, Simpkin. I didn't know. I…" There were tears in her eyes. "Oh gods…"

Before he could properly register what the hell just happened, Simpkin found himself in a warm and tight embrace. He tensed up reflexively, not entirely sure what to do. This whole day has been nothing but a rollercoaster.

"I cannot even imagine what you must have gone through." She said, voice slightly choked up. "Gods almighty, that's horrible, sick. It's just… it's disgusting. I'm so sorry, Simpkin. Nobody should suffer like you and your kind do. I'm sorry."

Okay, that was the last straw. Simpkin's brain pulled the emergency brake and just stopped processing everything. Slavery being illegal for longer than he existed? Sure, okay. His summoner being apparently magical? Yeah, that happens. Said summoner currently giving him a hug and showing more compassion and understanding in one minute than he'd received in his whole life? Might as well hug her back or she'll get even more upset.

It felt nice, actually. She smelled like paint and flowers, although he wasn't sure which ones. He didn't know much about flowers or plants in general. Hell, there probably were different ones in Eskaria, anyway, so there was no point in wondering.

"So," he started after a moment, "does the offer of employment still stand?"

\---

They returned to the summoning room, talking about the job and discussing the terms and conditions of Simpkin's possible employment.

"You would have to wear this all throughout the working day." His summoner told him, handing him the grounding amulet. "I don't want my assistant to send himself off whenever he's bored and the work's not done." She smiled, and Simpkin smiled back. "I will dismiss you and summon you again, binding you to the amulet instead, okay? Just for a test run."

He nodded. "Okay."

And just like that, he was gone and fading away to the Other Place. When he felt the summons for the second time, something felt odd. Different. They weren't pulling him down, but… it was as if they were creating a pathway? It was more like an invitation than a demand.

Keeping in mind the fact that he might not be able to change his appearance later, Simpkin decided to keep his winged, long-tailed guise since it gave him more versatility. He made the ears a little smaller, though, because they looked silly.

Upon materialising back in the summoning room, the first thing he discovered was that he wasn't in any sort of pain. The pain was always there during his stay outside the Other Place! Hells, it was even there on Eskaria before he was dismissed.

And all of a sudden, nothing. 

Nothing hurt.

He was so used to feeling this unceasing pain that not feeling it was… he didn't have the words for it. If he had any lingering doubts about whether staying in Eskaria was a good idea, they were nothing but dust. Damn Mr Pinn. Damn that thing. Damn the shop. Damn London. Damn Earth. 

"How are you feeling?" His summoner asked from the other side of the room. Simpkin noticed that she wasn't standing in a protective pentacle. "Sorry, I made it myself so it might not work very well, but I'll get you a proper one as soon as we…"

Instead of answering, Simpkin lunged out of the pentacle, barely noticing that he wasn't actually confined to it, and wrapped his summoner in the tightest hug he was capable of giving without breaking any of her bones. 

She hugged back, laughing. "Now take it off."

He complied, almost immediately finding himself in the Other Place. It was so exhilarating that he could've danced if he had a concrete form. When the summons came, he was more than happy to answer.

"When do I start?" He asked, a little breathless, when he appeared in the pentacle for the third time, with the amulet hanging on a chain around his neck.

His summoner chuckled. Simpkin thought that he liked her laughter; it was melodic like a silver bell. "I was hoping tomorrow," she said, "so that you could set yourself up and get used to your surroundings."

He nodded, a little disappointed that he couldn't start right away. Then again, the decision was a sound one. "Yes, master."

Her smile vanished, and she looked at him with gravity. "Please, do not call me that." She said. "You are not a slave, Simpkin, and I have no intention of treating you as one. From today on, you are my employee and nothing less, understood?"

He nodded, the words ringing in his ears.

_"You are not a slave, Simpkin, and I have no intention of treating you as one."_

The concept of freedom was so foreign to him that he still couldn't get used to it. However…

"If I cannot call you master, what do I call you?"

The woman paused, eyes widening in sudden realisation, before she slammed her palm against her forehead. "Dear gods, I didn't even introduce myself!" She cried. "See, this is why I need someone to help me keep things running; next time I'll forget my own head, you'll see. My name is Iria, Iria Viteri, or just Miss if you prefer."

Miss Viteri.

Simpkin thought that he liked that.

He saluted merrily, "Roger that, Miss!"

\---

Eskaria, as Simpkin came to learn earlier that day, wasn't overly dissimilar to Earth, save for its multitude of races and the fact that about half of its technology ran on magic.

"Cheaper and safer for the environment." Miss Levis explained as she boiled the kettle just by touching it. "Safer for us, too, when the god of nature makes all the wood in your house come to life and choke you if you started a forest fire. Happened in Feskar a couple months back."

Even the food was magical, a necessity with so many races with different metabolisms; some accommodations had to be made.

"This tea, for example," she said, handing him a cup (purple with green triangles) "can be drunk by just about anyone who buys it, even your kind. Here, try it."

Simpkin eyed the steaming liquid sceptically before - trusting his master's… no, _employer's_ word - taking a careful sip.

He didn't have words to express how utterly, indescribably delicious it was.

The tea was sweet and smelled nice, spreading warmth all over his body as it went down his throat. Curiously, it didn't feel like it clogged up his essence like food usually did – in fact, it was as if the tea was dissolving, absorbed by his essence and helping his muscles relax.

"It's blackberry and hibiscus," Miss Viteri said, taking a sip from her own cup, "one of my favourites. It goes well with Miss Morelli's muffins too."

"Muffins…" Simpkin rolled the word around in his mouth. He'd heard of them, but somehow never actually seen one during his time on Earth. "I've never had one."

She looked at him, aghast. "Oh gods," she gasped, "you poor thing. You've never eaten a single muffin in your whole life?!" She paused, drumming her fingers against the counter, "No, of course you haven't." She muttered, then stood up decisively. "This simply will not do, follow me."

\---

The world outside the art shop was a brilliant, confusing mess. On one hand, most of the technology seemed familiar and there were some humans walking around, but there also were other sort-of-humanoid creatures: some were taller, some shorter, some had wings, some had shadows that moved separately from them (one of them gave Simpkin a cheerful wave), and some didn't look humanlike at all. They all had weird auras, but what confused him the most was that they all seemed to coexist peacefully, having found common language seemingly without much trouble.

Ms Morelli's bakery was a few blocks away; a lovely storefront with pastel pink and white décor and a bell which gave a clear, pleasant chime when they entered.

A very short woman with large bespectacled eyes sat behind the counter, her wrinkled face breaking into a wide, welcoming smile when she saw them.

"Ah, Iria!" She cried, lifting herself up to give Miss Viteri a kiss on each cheek. "How lovely to see you again, dear! My nephew loved the painting I bought him for his birthday, I truly cannot thank you enough."

Miss Viteri laughed, patting the old woman's hand. "I'm so happy that he liked it. Now, I would like you to meet my new assistant." She gestured at Simpkin, who approached the counter hesitantly.

The woman, probably Ms Morelli herself, leaned over the counter, adjusting her glasses to get a better look at him.

"Why hello there, dearie!" She smiled down at him. "Haven't seen you around here before. Then again, my eyesight isn't what it used to be." She giggled at her own joke, and Simpkin decided that, although she was sort of weird, he could get used to her. "My name is Mira Morelli, the owner of this fine establishment." She made a wide arc with her arm before extending it towards him.

He reached up to shake it, not quite sure what to do. People rarely interacted with him outside of giving orders and things like that.

Miss Viteri glanced at him. "He's new here," she explained, "and hasn't tried a muffin before. Do you have an-"

Ms Morelli jumped up, almost falling off her chair. "HE HASN'T WHAT?" She looked down at Simpkin with pure, unadulterated outrage. "Nirine's grace, boy, where are you from if I may inquire?"

"Th-The Other Place." He replied, more than slightly taken aback by the outburst. Were those "muffins" this good?

"A spirit, then." She nodded sagely, hopping off her chair and waddling up to the display. She stood there for several moments, fussing and muttering, before placing several pastries into a paper bag. She then returned to the counter and set the bag down.

Miss Viteri leaned down with a coy smile. "Watch this." She whispered to him. "Cooking magic."

Ms Morelli's hands began to glow with soft white light as she chanted under her breath in a language Simpkin didn't understand. He flipped through the planes to try to determine the nature of her magic, but it was unlike anything he's ever seen before.

When the spell was finished and her hands stopped glowing, the paper bag had a soft, warm aura around it on the second and third plane.

"There we go." She shook down her hands and handed him the bag. It was slightly warm to the touch and smelled absolutely delicious. 

Miss Viteri nodded with a smile. "Thank you." She said, reaching for her purse. "Now, how much do-"

But Ms Morelli only shook her head in a way that left no room for discussion. "I won't take but a copper for introducing this fine young chap to the world of confectionery. Now sit down for goddess's sake and eat."

They sat down at one of the tables, Miss Viteri nibbling on what looked like a cake roll filled with red jam (which she insisted on paying for) while Simpkin eyed the pastries piled up on his plate.

There was a square made of some crumbly type of cake with pink and white frosting on top, what looked like a mini fruit tart but with fruits he'd never seen before, a cookie shaped like a simplified silhouette of a cat with details drawn on with chocolate, a pretty sizeable cakeball covered with what looked like coconut flakes, and what Simpkin thought looked like what a muffin should look like.

Deciding to start with a muffin, he lifted it up and, careful not to spill crumbs, took a bite.

If spirits could cry, he'd burst into uncontrollable tears.

The muffin was…

It was…

The taste was…

It was indescribable, Simpkin managed to think before his mind was clouded by a sweet fog which made everything around him wonderful in every conceivable way. The muffin was soft, moist, sweet and fruity (at least, he thought that that's what fruits were supposed to taste like.) It was incredible. It was wonderful. He never wanted to eat anything ever again.

He barely remembered to remove the paper wrapper before the muffin quickly disappeared into his mouth as he chewed with the most delightful, near ecstatic expression on his face, eyes half shut to amplify the experience. 

Miss Viteri watched him with a smile.

After the muffin came the cookie cat, ridiculously crumbly but still delicious although a bit dry. Luckily, he got a glass of (properly enchanted) water, so it went down without much trouble.

Then he dug into the pink and white square. It was a mix of different textures: soft and chewy at the top, and chunkier at the bottom. It was sweeter than the cat, but not overwhelmingly so.

The mini tart was next, the fruits bursting with flavour all over his tongue in a perfect mixture of sweet and sour. He wasn't sure what the yellow berries were, but they were on a good path to becoming his second favourite fruit (blackberry was the first if the tea was anything to go by.)

He saved the cakeball for the end out of pure curiosity. Was it stuffed? Were those really coconut flakes? Did it matter? He never tasted coconut. He bit into it…

…

How could he ever go back to eating imps and humans if something so perfectly delicious existed anywhere in the universe? How could anyone ever dream of eating anything else? How…

"He likes ‘em." Ms. Morelli remarked with a chuckle, already on her way to the display with a new paper bag in hand.

\---

After they (very reluctantly) left the bakery, Miss Viteri took Simpkin on a small shopping trip.

"Since you'll only be able to change shape between summonings," She told him, "which, by the way, can happen whenever you wish, you're going to need some clothes."

He nodded, only half listening as most of his attention was focused on looking around. Meregoth looked sort of like London would if there was less smoke and almost every inch of it was glowing with magic.

Take the traffic lights, for example. They seemed to be made of some sort of crystal set in intricately made columns of black metal. It looked like iron except it didn't feel uncomfortable to touch.

The cars were different too, in that there were less of them and they didn't release fumes. A shape zoomed above him; a man with large, eagle-like wings and talons at his hands and feet. He was holding a briefcase.

They passed a restaurant where a glowing blue being flitted between tables, collecting empty plates and glasses with the help of three pairs of arms. It moved past a table occupied by three shadows, chatting and laughing in quiet, a little bit creepy voices. One of them sounded sort of like radio static, while another like the rustle of dry leaves. The third sounded as if rainfall could form coherent words. They were sharing a large pizza and discussing something called a "biology project."

"We should do it on sohoraks." One of them said, taking a sip from their cup. "Have you seen their feet? I bet they could kick you from here to Verduk."

"Nah," another waved their hand, "they're built for running, not kicking, and besides screw the legs - the feathers alone could take up like fifteen slides."

"Oh yeah, the patterns and shit."

"Yeah but if they can run then they're obviously shredded," the third cut in, "so like, they probably could kick your ass if they wanted to."

"Not if I kick your ass first, sugarsticks."

"Try me, bitchfeathers."

"Yo," the second one snapped their fingers suddenly, "Hela's uncle lives in Northern Makryss and these guys are crazy about those weird fucking birds. He might give us some material."

The other two shadows nodded before returning to their pizza, and Simpkin and Miss Viteri moved on.

They entered a large, brightly lit shop and were immediately greeted by a short, fat, jolly man with pointed ears and silvery white hair. Simpkin thought thay he looked like an older, kinder, and _bluer_ version of Mr Pinn

"Welcome, Iria!" He bent down to kiss Miss Viteri's hand, "Looking gorgeous as always, I see. And who's this with you?"

Simpkin wondered if he should introduce himself. On one hand, it would be rude not to, but on the other, he was unused to giving his name away so freely.

Luckily, Miss Viteri placed a hand on his shoulder. "He's my new assistant." She explained. "We were wondering if you have something that would fit him."

"Of course, of course!" The man led them through the shop, chatting incessantly about types of fabric, colours, the necessity of the additional space for wings, this spectacular jacket – very in season! – and other things Simpkin had no clue about. He just picked what looked nice and practical.

Eventually, the man sent him to the changing room and, when he emerged, stuck a navy blue hat on his head.

"There," he said proudly, sticking his thumbs behind the waistband of his trousers, "that completes the look."

Simpkin got that hat for free, just because. He still couldn't understand how could all these people be so nice to him. He was a foliot, for goodness's sake, on top of that looking like a short, green imp. The best he could ever hope for was not being kicked around by djinn or other higher spirits.

"I think that he likes you," Miss Viteri nudged him as they left, snapping him out of his thoughts. "That was Mr Dorlik Laevan in case you wanted to ask. He's an elf, and elves live a lot longer than humans. His wife passed away two decades ago and the poor sap is lonely. Don't be surprised if he adopts you; he already has two kids and four cats; if you're more than ten years younger than him, you're automatically either a family friend or straight up family whether you like it or not."

"Oh," Simpkin tugged at his jacket, unsure what to say. Family? "How old is he?"

"Seven hundred and thirty-three."

Simpkin was only two hundred and five, give or take. Did that mean that he was family too? He didn't even know what having a family involved or felt like. Mr Pinn never married and Simpkin only saw glimpses of family life on the streets, in women holding hands with their children or husbands coming home after a long day of work. 

"Family." He muttered as he walked, his new shoes clicking satisfyingly against the pavement. "Why not?"

\---

"You will learn five scales per hour." Miss Viteri told him when they came back to the art shop. "That's the starting salary of most business assistants, and it might increase if you work well."

Simpkin nodded, listening attentively. "What are scales?"

She took out her purse, opened it and took out two coins and a bank note.

"This," she pushed the copper coin towards him, "is a syral, although some people just call them syrs or coppers. Fifty syrals make a scale." She pushed the silver coin forward. "Scales used to be called dragons, but the dragons didn't like that." She smiled, and Simpkin smiled back hesitantly, unsure if she was joking. Did Eskaria have dragons too?! "Ten, twenty, fifty and a hundred scales are converted into notes." She showed him one of the notes; faded green with the image of a beautiful woman wearing a crown on one side and a flower on the other. 

"Who is this?" he asked. 

She glanced at the note and smiled. "This is queen Ophelia. I can tell you about her later if you wish. Anyway, you can do anything you want with the money: rent a flat (although you might have to do some saving and paperwork for that), buy things, save up, you know. There are numerous shops around, which I could give you a tour of if you wish. Do you understand everything?"

Simpkin still had his eyes glued to the money. "I'm getting paid." He said, not fully comprehending the situation.

Miss Viteri nodded. "Of course you are," she said firmly. "You are my employee and will be treated accordingly."

He still found it hard to get used to. Freedom. Money. Kindness. Being treated like an equal instead of a slave. So many foreign concepts he had no idea how to deal with.

How did he ever come to deserve this?

Actually, it didn't matter, Simpkin decided. He was there, and he was going to give it his all just to keep deserving it day after day. 

Forever, ideally.

\---

They then went to his new room; a small but cozy space on the floor above the shop itself. It was mostly empty save for a bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, a desk and some shelves. There was a vase with bright blue flowers standing on the windowsill.

"You can tailor it to your own tastes if you wish," Miss Viteri told Simpkin as she handed him the key, "I could even give you a painting to liven the place up."

He nodded, happy to have an excuse to get a closer look at his employer's paintings.

And boy, were they magnificent.

It seemed that art had a magic all of its own, because some of the paintings could actually move on their own accord: a flock of geese flying above a humble fishing village as the lake rippled and shimmered in the morning light; a meteor shower reflected in an open ocean with a mountain on the horizon; a rabbit cleaning its paws in the middle of a sunlit meadow while a butterfly flew from one flower to another; an underground cavern glittering with colourful gemstones and veins of gold and silver; or a teapot full of steaming hot tea next to two teacups, a vase, and a small bowl full of sugar cubes.

"I like drawing places and landscapes." Miss Viteri told him as they browsed, "They relax me. With people, you have to get the face and clothing exactly right, but with landscapes you can just let your imagination run wild. Can you paint?"

He shook his head. 

"Would you like me to teach you?"

He nodded, surprised at how excited he was at the prospect. Hells, why not? How amazing would it be to create such magnificent pieces from what, a blank canvas and some paints? He could even forego the magic to make the paintings move; the process of creating something from nothing was what fascinated him the most.

In the end, he chose the painting of a meteor shower above an open ocean because it sort of conveyed how he felt. He couldn't quite explain how, but it just did.

His new clothes went into the drawers, the spare coats into the wardrobe, and the clipboard was carefully placed on the desk.

With that done, Miss Viteri led the way to the storeroom, saying something about having ordered a batch of these lovely iridescent paints that shimmered and changed colours when the light hit them just right. For example, metallic blue could instantly turn into pink or grey to orange and vice versa.

"Art is all about experimenting," she told him, "in that there's no way to fail! Even if you're not happy with what you've made, you've made something which has helped you expand your understanding of art, whatever you were painting, or perhaps even yourself. Now be a dear and help me with those easels, please."

\---

Simpkin managed to paint quite a nice beach by the time it got dark outside. Sure, the colours were all over the place and he only used one shade of each, but Miss Viteri told him that he did spectacularly.

"You've got a flair for this." She told him, patting him on the shoulder, "Keep practising and we could put some of your works next to mine."

The praise made him practically beam with pride, something warm and fuzzy unravelling in his chest. She liked it! She thought that he had a flair for art!! If he tried really, really hard, maybe his work could go up on the walls!!!

"Thank you!" He grinned, all giddy and suddenly unable to stay in one spot for more than two seconds. "Shall I practise more?"

She shook her head, pointing at the clock (shaped like a simplified cat head.) "It's getting late and we both have work tomorrow." She gave him one of her warm smiles that made him think of standing in the middle of a field of lavender in the middle of summer. "We'll paint more during lunchtime, okay?"

He nodded, giving her a cheerful salute. "Yes, Miss!"

After they cleaned up, washed all the brushes, set everything away, and Simpkin returned to his room, he fell on the bed with an exhausted sigh. He didn't remember ever being this tired. At the same time, however, he was… happy. So, so happy. And sleepy, which was strange because spirits didn't need sleep.

Then again, the bed was so warm and soft, and he was so tired…

Simpkin curled up underneath the covers and, for possibly the first time in his life, actually went to sleep.


End file.
